


About cookies and such

by Yessica



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Post-Undertale Soulless Pacifist Route, Sharing a Body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 05:25:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17135816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yessica/pseuds/Yessica
Summary: For the 2018 Papchat Secret Santa.Papyrus babysits Frisk.





	About cookies and such

**Author's Note:**

  * For [batter_sempai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/batter_sempai/gifts).



> I know this was meant to be cute but I made it angst because of course I did

“I'll be back by 10 at the latest.” Toriel says, hand wrapped around the doorframe even as her foot is already out on the porch. “Dinner is in the fridge and no sugar after 8 or else-”

“Or else they won't sleep. Yes, your majesty.” Papyrus says, throwing Frisk a sideway glance but they're not looking at him.

“Good.” She comes back in to wrap her arms around Frisk for a short moment and the child smiles, patting their mother's back softly.

“Have fun.” They sign, as Toriel lets go of them and she nods, waving at the both of them before disappearing out the door.

They attach themselves to Papyrus' leg almost immediately, gazing up at him with big eyes and he sighs, already knowing where this is going.

“What do you want to do?” He asks carefully, patting their dark hair. “Preferably something that doesn't involve you concealing your presence from me for three hours straight.”

Hide and seek hadn't ended well last time.

“We want cookies.” Their eyes are a startling shade of brown, almost edging into red, as they clarify. “Chocolate cookies.”

“That we can do.” Papyrus walks them into the kitchen, picking them up effortlessly to set them on the counter and Frisk bounces their legs excitedly, bumping into the cabinets.

“Don't we need a recipe?” They want to know and Papyrus grins.

“Instructions are the death of creativity, human.” He says sagely, making them giggle. He opens the fridge and peers inside, looking for anything they could use. “Besides, what about making cookies could prove to be a challenge. It's a rather straightforward procedure.”

Frisk holds their chin in thought. “Everything.”

Papyrus puts all of the ingredients on the counter next to them and they hold out their arms to be let down again, running away to grab their stool, too small to reach otherwise.

They balance on it precariously, standing on tip toes and Papyrus has to steady them before they fall.

“Please do be careful. If you break your neck the queen will literally end me.”

They nod, already rolling up their sleeves to get to work mixing the ingredients. The amounts are a little finicky but they make do. Before long they have a full bowl of cookie dough, with chocolate chips mixed in and everything.

It's quite the achievement.

Papyrus has turned his back towards them, throwing something away when they say his name. Their voice is soft, almost inaudible but he catches it and turns around, surprised by their use of their vocal cords.

Something hits him in the face. It's wet and gooey and it sticks to his cheek. Frisk giggles, still holding the spoon they used to launch their sticky projectile.

Papyrus grimaces.

“Human, did you just declare a war on me?”

Frisk reloads their makeshift canon with another dollop of cookie dough as a form of answer, taking careful aim and Papyrus ducks behind the kitchen island just in time to avoid getting hit in the face again, bursting out in surprised laughter.

“This is an act of violence!” He practically yells, peeking around the corner to see his assailant aim another round at him. “Cease now or I will be forced to use countermeasures!”

“Never!” They say, louder now, releasing their shot and Papyrus nods to himself.

He had vowed never to catch a human again, but under these circumstances it looks like he is forced to make an exception.

He waits for Frisk to launch another dough ball his way before taking action. He springs out from behind the kitchen island quickly, dive bombing for the small child and grasping them in both hands.

He spins them around to a chorus of loud giggles, throwing them over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and their fists push against his grip, futile to get loose.

“You're my prisoner now.” He says confidently and Frisk whines softly, going limp in his grip. Papyrus holds them out at arms length. “Regrettably I do not have ownership over a shed to throw you into at this time. We shall seek another suitable punishment.”

They blink at him, pouting, but even that face won't work on him today.

“Please don't make us stay up past bedtime. That would be horrible.” They sign, frowning just a bit but Papyrus shakes his head.

“Ah, reverse psychology. Oldest trick in the book.”

He puts them down smartly and Frisk laughs, skipping off to turn on the oven. After they help clean up their dough projectiles off the floor (and Papyrus wipes off the one that hit him in the face) they roll the remaining dough into little balls and put them on the baking tin.

Frisk puts them into the oven themselves, refusing any help and Papyrus claps for them when they're done, the look of pride on their face is priceless.

“Now we wait?” They look up at him, and he rubs his chin.

“Now we wait.”

They watch some tv in the meantime. Papyrus puts on the kids channel but they make faces at him until he changes it to some action flick.

“Just don't tell the queen.” He mutters. They promise not to.

They crawl up into his lap, resting their head on his shoulder and Papyrus lets them. He wonders who they are right now, as they curl one hand around his forearm softly, but it probably doesn't matter.

“Are you tired?” He asks.

Frisk hums, yawning slightly, and nods. Their eyes are closed, their cheek leaning into his clavicle and he pulls them closer with one hand.

“Sleep then, and the great Papyrus shall keep watch.”

They doze off for a while, their body warm against his while on tv some man kills a lot of people in a tower. It's quite exciting.

Then their kitchen timer dings and Frisk bolts upright, pressing two palms against his chest. “Cookie time.” Their hands move urgently and Papyrus picks them up, setting them on the floor.

“It would indeed seem so.”

The results are pretty impressive, given how they basically improvised their way through the recipe. The cookies are crunchy, maybe a bit singed on the bottom but very delicious anyway.

Frisk smiles as they munch on their third one. Papyrus doesn't look at the clock.

“Thank you.” They sign between bites and he smiles, leaning against the counter and brushing some crumbs off their striped sweater. “We love them.”

He can't see the color of their eyes.

But in that moment, with the smell of freshly baked cookies lingering in the air and a faint grin on their face, Papyrus doesn't think it matters.

 


End file.
